do not disturb

of course i’m falling down
try to walk around
with this broken heart
of course i need time
to rest; to heal
carrying the weight
of my bruised & battered
soul
i need my cocoon right now
but y’all know what happens
when this worn down
tired out
broken & struggling
creepy crawler gets a chance
to rest
to recover?

i guess if i’m going to let dusty break my heart for nine or twelve years, i can go ahead and take a week–or however long i need, goddammit–to recover.
back in the last century, after seymour & i broke up, i was seeing a therapist who started pushing pills on me because i was depressed. i fired her saying, “of course i’m fucking depressed, i just broke up with my fiance.”
seriously!
it’s like in this culture you aren’t allowed to suffer through anything. it’s weird to just suffer through. instead, here, take a pill.
suffering is part of healing. i don’t give a fuck what anyone says. i have to be sad right now. my second marriage (though it legally ended in 2010 & physically ended last year) just ended for me. i still had a little bit of hope for a happy ending hiding somewhere in my mind.
that hope just died.
of course i’m fucking depressed. of course i just want to sleep & do nothing else. and you know what i realized this morning? as much as possible, i should sleep & do nothing else. i should take care of myself. i should give myself time to heal.

so listen up world, i’m going to give myself time to heal. i’m not going to rush it or feel like i have to push through the pain or sedate** the pain.
i’m going to feel it.
feel the pain so i can feel how fucking good it feels when that pain goes away.

**(please note that i am not a medical professional, & i do not suffer from clinical depression or reference clinical depression when i do reference depression. also, i am being more metaphorical than literal…though i did have two unmedicated births, i cannot make it through a migraine without taking a tylenol.)

Advertisements

only human

you will never know how much
i mourn that we are not
a happily ever after. i mean
how sweet would that be?
forever love with the man
who’s four children i have birthed?
a team? the same team?
all of us–together? instead of this
terminal, yawning loneliness.
instead of struggling alone
alone alone alone
to raise four kids?
you will never know how my heart
breaks & how i believe i will
spend the rest of my life
alone & lonely.
that that part of me that craves
a connection will just dry up
& blow away in the wind.
i wish things were different.
with all my heart i wish everything
were different. i do.
but no matter how hard i wish…
nothing changes.

i have had this illustration idea in my head for the past few journal pages i have done. but when i went to draw it, other images appeared instead. so it finally found its home with this journal entry. while typing out the journal entry, i was happily surprised to see i drew dandelions in a post about wishes & blowing away in the wind. see…part of me is paying attention.

(note to self:  ask fidgit to teach me to draw a snail.)

dusty asked me if i ever cried watching other people play with their kids. he wanted to let me know how much he missed the kids when they are with me.
i could only respond by telling him how i cry every time i see a happy couple. every time someone clearly loves their wife. every time i see a normal functioning pair of humans.

humans.
that’s what poppy calls people. he asked me if i was reaching for a tree in this picture. i asked him where the tree is. he responded by asking if i was reaching for a human (he pronounces it “who-man.”) i told him, yes, i am reaching for a human.

the worst thing

what’s the worst thing
you can do
to the girl
who is full of anxiety
constantly looking to her worst-case-scenario
the girl with the abandonment
escapism
issues?
you.
her diabetic boyfriend
her diabetic fiance
the love of her life
you know what you could do?
you could go into insulin shock
once a week–at least
you could do that while you’re driving
even
crash your truck into a utility pole
& laugh it off
leaving her desperate
& terrified
you could do that
while never-ever realizing
never-ever admitting
that you are hurting her.

you were happy to let me take the blame
when our world fell apart.

this one. the one i should be over by now. but–you know–stuff it all down deep enough & you won’t have to deal with it. just keep piling more crap on top of it.
except…it seeps out. and i end up sending him psychotic communications. desperate pleas for forgiveness. and he just plays me like a game as usual.
i did awful things in that relationship. things out of my character. things i have never done to anyone else. and all i can do is blame myself…but what if i did it because i was so scared he was going to die on me?
i was sure i would come home & find him dead. so many times i came home to find him convulsing in insulin shock. what happens the one time i don’t make it home in time?

me.
a girl terrified of death. a girl terrified of being alone. a girl who would shut down rather than risk feeling for a creature that might die on her….

fuck the fuck.

it hurts so much to let this surface. i guess that’s good?  i mean–is healing supposed to hurt this much?

love lost…heart formed

to say i was a lonely & strange child…i was a misfit…watching the world around me & not understanding. not at all.
then, i don’t remember when, i met a girl who i understood & who seemed to understand me & it didn’t matter what the world thought of us because we had each other & could be perfectly odd together.
then we turned sixteen.
& i became weirder while she embraced the popular….
my first…big…damaging…shattering even…heartbreak.
& i stayed on the fringe.
i felt safe on the fringe.
barely knowing people. not letting them see me.
until one day
when i was twenty-two
i met a boy
& we became fast friends & then we became more & it felt all meant to be–he seemed to really see me–but i hesitated & it ended in terrible betrayal
i stayed me…he became someone else…someone i know longer knew & i wondered if i ever really knew him…& my world fell apart all over again….
i wonder…
but i don’t believe
& here i live
lonely ever after….

not alone

i thought it was
you & me
against the world
but
i was all alone
the whole
time
i was all alone

i have a key around my neck with the words “not alone” engraved on one side and a heart engraved on the other side. it was made by a woman who suffers from anxiety to remind us that even when we feel alone, we are not.

i am not alone.

i mean i know that when i hear a song on the radio and wonder how the artist got a hold of my journal. even a poem i wrote last week reminded someone of the lyrics of a tool song. he sent the lyrics to me, and i was blown away by how much the writer of the song was feeling what i felt–and also by how much better he expressed it.

sometimes i feel very, very alone though.
sometimes it is hard to remember that i am not.
i have to remind myself & convince myself that i have a tribe out there that i have never met. (i have seen the blind melon video so i know that it must be true–right?)

i wrote the above poem for dusty. he cannot seem to grasp how much he hurt me. he won’t stop with the words that are ten years too late. he threw me away for other women and broke parts of me that i did not realize hadn’t already been broken. and now he just wants everything to be magically okay. so i have nightmares all night long. living with dusty in my dreams. trying to thaw his coldness. one dream had three men break into our place. i was trying to save the minions; dusty disappeared. the dream ended just before i was going to be raped. that sums it up. i don’t feel safe with him. i don’t feel like a priority. i feel like he is never on my side. that he does not have my back…not at all.

and that is what i need. i need someone i can count on.

not dusty.

so right now, i am alone…but not for always.

let’s play

again, looking for love in all the blog places, i plugged in the search word “homesteading” (when i searched “sheep” i just found a bunch of political posts–ha!) and was delighted to find a blog post titled “homesteading artist” only to realize it was one of my own posts.

the problem is:
1. i find me fascinating most of the time and want someone kind of like me (less anxiety; less depression; less control issues.)
2. i am a complicated person–an oxymoronic person–despite my desire to be simple and to make sense, and it is difficult to find another who might overlap in a complimentary way.
3. relationships terrify me.

for those of you saying to yourself, “didn’t she just break up with exhusband#2?”
the truth is that i left him a year ago new year’s day, and then HE decided HE wanted to work things out. i never decided that and remained in a state of limbo until shortly after we moved here–july-ish? where i finally said, “no, i don’t want to be with you.” and had him move out of my bedroom, ceasing all physical relationship with him as that was our only actual relationship qualifier since…what? before poppy was conceived? also. i divorced him in 2010.

so!
depending on how you look at it, we have been broken up for between 5 months and 6 years. i feel as if we have been broken up for at least a year. probably more. the day i went to court and sat in that courtroom all by myself, wondering what would become of me…to me, that is the day our relationship was over because that was the day i realized he will never be the man i need him to be. that was fall of 2015.

long story short. i am over him and long for a relationship with a person who is capable of caring about me and for me.

so it’s not too soon for me to be looking for the next ex (haha–please let that be a joke)…in fact, i am overdue for a good relationship.
i have done my time.
show me the nice guys!

letsplay1

this is the ink stain i started today’s doodle with.
if you ever read my moses jones story, you might suspect i am partial to black and white…to shades of gray. i am.
color is nice, but somehow i find i enjoy the ones without color a bit more. they make me less anxious?

the river

yesterday
i was so weirded out by the dragons in my picture
that i never stopped to wonder what a person might think
of my skull wearing fire goddess.
which then i obsessed about for awhile
wondering if i would be labeled too dark
too witchy
mostly thinking of how my younger sister would see it
my conservative republican trump-voting highly delusional little sister.

then i thought
you know
if i had a horned skull and a feather tutu
i would totally wear that.
so it must not be weird,
right?

ha!

then i was fine with it.

and today i have another goddess portrait
a river goddess
wearing welding goggles
because, you know, to keep water out of her eyes.

so tomorrow i go fetch my minions back
the end to my alone time…
and i won’t get a picture done tomorrow…maybe the next day?

so tomorrow i see dusty
very briefly
which is how i prefer it.
i haven’t missed him at all.
i can just pretend he is still sitting at his laptop playing video games
or getting high in the garage.
not much different with him gone.

and i finally read my tarot cards today.
i have been avoiding them ever since they yelled at me about not
taking my art seriously.
today they told me
(abridged)
“keep on keeping on–& don’t fuck it up.”

so that’s my game plan.
steady as she goes…watch out for sink holes & water falls.

and here is my ink stain. i could see a face and knew it was a portrait of someone wearing goggles. i fleshed her out. then i found the river.

inkstainriver